Barcelona: The First Few Days

I was awoken by an alarm at 5:30am! My Hostel room was empty except for this Spanish speaking couple that had come in yesterday. Now it’s one thing to wake up early like that, but the asshole TURNS THE LIGHTS ON AND STARTS READING!!!!! Until his girlfriend gets out of bed half an hour later! Times like these I sincerely wish I had a better grasp on the Spanish language so I could say something along the lines of…” Hey shit for brains, its 5:30am, if you wanna read go to common area downstairs! Otherwise turn the fuckin lights back off and get ready quietly! Did you by chance see the sign on the back of the door, 8 lines down about respecting your roommates or did you miss that part?” I was wide awake with rage at this point. Not even my blindfold and ear plugs could calm me down. Finally an hour later they left, I could get a few more hours of sleep in before I had to take off.

I awoke again at 10:30am, 3 hours until my train left for Barcelona. I gathered my belongings double checked that I had everything and headed downstairs to check out. I hoped on the internet for a moment to check my reservations in Barcelona as well as email and Facebook stuff. I arrived at the station way earlier then I should have but better safe than sorry. Finally around 1pm the train started to board. Luckily my seat was a window seat and no one was sitting next to me. I stretched out, leaned my seat back and watched in great anticipation as Madrid slowly faded from my peripheral and into insignificance.

The Spanish countryside was completely stunning. Trees and green fields made way to limestone mountains and rolling hills with small villages dotting the scenery every now and again. The unfortunate part of the matter was that my camera battery was dead. Otherwise I probably could have taken way too many pictures of the scenery; it was awe-inspiring, dramatic, and breathtaking. In an interesting way it was as if I were taking a train across the US; the abridged version. You start with the greenery of the east coast area (just outside Madrid). Next to the “heartlands” but instead of boring farmland in the Midwest it was olive groves and wineries. Then once through that area it was mountains, hills and valleys all the way until you reach the other coast (Barcelona).

Once in Barcelona I hoped the metro up to the Gracia district where I was staying. Then, as always came the interesting part, finding my hotel. This took almost an hour as I wondered up and down the main drag of Travessera de Dalt. Finally I was directed down a neighborhood street by a local but still didn’t find it. I kept walking around and finally victory was mine! I found my hotel, checked in and took a much needed nap.

Later, around 10:30pm I decided to trek around for some dinner. Go figure my first night in Barcelona and I go with Asian food from this fast food type place called Woki, which was set up in a natural food market. 7.5 euro’s gets you a plate of rice with 2 ingredients (chicken and broccoli for me) and sauce plus a drink, not too bad. So that was my dinner. I brought it back to my hotel, ate and then decided to read for a while until I shut off the light.

I arose from bed around 10:30am, showered, and set out with the intention of being a tourist today. I ventured all the way down Torrent de L’Olla, stopping only at a pastry shop for a tasty croissant. From there I turned left but soon just started wondering in the general direction of where I wanted to go. My first sight would indeed be La Sagrada Familia. Gaudi’s famous church that is still under construction over a hundred years later. The hell with the Grand Market Place in Brussels, you wanna talk about spectacular, about something no picture or string of words can truly describe? Here it is buddy, in its entirety. The west and north side were impressive but it’s the east side of the structure with all the detail that really caught my attention. I had to grab a seat from the café across the street, sit down and just marvel at this creation for a good half hour. There is nothing in modern industrial/architectural design that could even compete with this. No Empire State Building, Twin Tower, hotel on the Las Vegas strip, Zakim Bridge or Burj Dubai. They have nothing on this structure and this one is still being built!

Yes, it is a masterpiece; a work of art unto itself but I feel the best way to truly describe this building is to compare it to a Jimi Hendrix song. Yes it’s a masterpiece, it’s something you may have listened to hundreds of times but every time you do, you notice a subtle difference that you didn’t before, a small tonal nuance or a note that you never knew existed before. Every time I looked up at the east side of the church I noticed a new detail I hadn’t before. That, to me, is the mark of true artistic achievement.

It took a while to finally convince myself to keep going but I finally did. I decided to be even touristier and headed down to Les Rambles, the main tourist street in Barcelona. I wondered some more, heading in the general direction of the street, just letting my feet take me where they will. I ventured through some small neighborhoods and beautiful narrow backstreets until finally I found my way to Les Rambles. I didn’t really see what the big deal was with this street. It was nothing more than souvenir shops, overpriced outdoor restaurants and street performers. The one highlight though was unquestionably wondering the aisles of the Mercat de la Boqueria, the largest market in Barcelona (at least that’s what I was told). Once inside, it’s like food overload. I honestly wished I lived here in Barcelona so I could buy food from here and take it home to cook. Every kind of meat, every kind of cut imaginable was here. Hell, you could even buy pig heads, skinned lamb heads, livers, intestine, stomach lining, and brains; if it was part of the animal it was being sold. All kinds of fruits and vegetables, spices, nuts, legumes, wines, I mean you name it; it was probably being sold here somewhere. There were 2 or 3 bars in the market all serving alcohol and tapas, the problem was they were all full and each seat had at the very least one person waiting to sit down. From what I saw the food looked amazing; Razor clams, mussels, shrimp etc… I was hungry and needed to eat, pronto. But of course every restaurant around the market was severely overpriced. I bought a package of mango, strawberries and kiwi for 1.5 euro’s, sat on a crate and devoured. This would not do the job though, and kept on walking up Les Rambles. I finally found a place to eat but I am too embarrassed to share what it was. Let’s just say that if Anthony Bourdain was with me he probably would have bitch smacked me. That’s all I will say.

After “lunch” I got on the train and went back to my hotel for a siesta. When I got up I went to the market around the corner and picked up some bread and a thing of Spanish sausage for a snack, tasty would be the word to describe it for sure. After walking around the neighborhood a bit more for no particular reason I decided to get dinner. I went with, once again, Woki. I learned that if something is truly good, don’t have it two nights in a row, it wasn’t as good tonight as it was the previous night. I sat in my room eating dinner and watching the one movie I brought with me; Casino Royale. Do I love James Bond? I do, and Daniel Craig is the best Bond since Connery. That one scene where he gets poisoned, goes into cardiac arrest, dies, comes back to life and then goes straight back to the table and says “Oh I’m sorry, that last hand, nearly killed me.” Pure fucking Genius! I could watch that scene on repeat and never get bored of it.

Enough about James Bond, this is about lady Barcelona and how good she’s been to me. Following dinner I headed through the streets to Bar de la Perla. A small rock n roll themed bar suggested to me by my friend Adriana who lives in Boston currently but is from Barcelona originally. I grabbed a Corona and sat at the bar but everyone was speaking Spanish around me. I left afterwards and headed to an English style pub I had seen earlier in the day. Not much of a scene there but the music was decent and the bartenders were somewhat friendly. I started with a pint of Paulander and afterwards went with a Guinness. They have no idea how to pour a Guinness here in Spain. It was placed in front of me within 1 minute. Everyone knows you fill it ¾ of the way let it settle for 2 minutes then fill to the top.

After my 2 beers I decided to head back to the hotel as I didn’t want to get carried away with the drinking considering my stomach condition is somewhat still apparent and I don’t want to make it worse. Though, it was not like it had been my first few days in Madrid, I have plenty of energy and no longer dealing with constant dehydration. Not a bad first full day in Barcelona, lots more to come and plenty more to see.

Day 2
I got out of bed somewhat later then I had been due to not going to bed until roughly 4am last night. I got dressed and wondered down Torrent de L’Olla to find a quick breakfast. As I walked I found an internet shop. I grabbed 2 croissants from a bakery (mighty tasty might I add, these were cereal croissants with crunchy flakes of cereal baked inside). After devouring the croissants I headed into the internet shop to check up on things.

After conducting business and such I made my way up to Parc Guell, a large open park on a hillside in the Gracia District up the street from my hotel. I made the trek uphill and into the park. Once inside it was a cesspool of tourists (I should have known this, but….) I made my way through the crowds, taking the standard mosaic lizard photo and such. But it wasn’t until I got high up enough to be able to see the entire city all the way down to the Mediterranean that it dawned on me how truly beautiful and completely enthralling Barcelona really is. First off the Mediterranean has this amazingly deep azure blue color that is hard to describe in words. It was somewhat synestheasic . I could almost feel the blueness or even taste it. It’s nothing like any of the other oceans I’ve seen. On America’s west coast you have a crystal-esque blue water, same thing off the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. On the east coast it’s an ugly dark blue especially in the north; from Old Orchard Beach down through Long Island Sound and down to the sunshine state even. The Mediterranean’s color truly defines the region and adds an incredible contrast to the rest of the colors you see over the city, the way in which the terra cotta roofs and stucco/plaster walls of different but similar colors all blend together. I was having a hard time picking out colors as it all seemed to blend together. I’m sure an artist would have no problem separating but I’m not an artist, just a musician and in this case I guess I can call myself a writer. But put a blank canvas and some tubes of paint in front of me and I can probably paint you a stick figure or some horrible looking abstract piece.

I wondered around the upper levels of the park for a while longer and then decided to head back to base for a nap. As I made my way down the hill I stopped at a small shop and bought a chorizo and cheese sandwich, a lemon Fanta and a bottle of water. I found a stoop to sit on and quietly ate my afternoon snack as people strolled by. I made my way back to the hotel and shut my eyes for a while. When I got up I decided that some more strolling would be in the works for tonight.

This time I made my way down to Passieg de Gracia, a large thoroughfare of a street. This was apparently where most of the high class shopping was done. Gucci, Valentino, Diesel, Burberry etc... Most of the restaurants and food establishments seemed to mirror the area so I headed back to Gracia to regroup. I ended up having dinner at a small restaurant towards the end of Torrent de L’Olla called Caliu. This was an older style, more traditional Spanish/Catalan establishment. Since my Spanish is quite limited I had to go with what I recognized on the menu. I started with a plate of cut Serrano ham that was excellent. Sliced just perfectly so that the fat had a bit of chewiness to it but was not overly tough. I enjoyed my plate of ham and then was met with a four cheese, Spanish style pizza. The waitress then came over and asked me a question in Spanish that I did not understand except for the word “picante,” hot sauce. Yes please. Though this wasn’t like a Tabasco or Tapatio type of hot sauce. This was hot peppers marinating in olive oil in a carafe. Not overly spicy, just the right amount of bite. For refreshments I had a pitcher of house made sangria. Honestly how was I going to come to Spain and not have any sangria? That’s like going to New England and not having lobster, going to Texas and not having BBQ, or going to Ireland and not having a Guinness. It’s practically a sin, or a crime against humanity!

My dinner was excellent, and filling. I couldn’t even finish the pizza to be honest. I asked for the check and was surprised that the bill was just north of 20 euro. Not bad for a filling meal like that. I made my way back up to the Hotel as it was about 1am at this point and I was exhausted from all the walking I did today.

Day 3
I awoke somewhat early today but lounged in bed for a while until about 10:30 when a loud, harsh buzzing noise from the room next door made me practically jump out of bed. Did I mention that like Brussels, the walls are paper thin? It sounded like a cross between a sink disposal and a heavy duty drill. Can’t I just stay at one place where I’m not rudely awoken by some kind of construction or human idiocy? Is that too much to ask for while on a European journey? I got up, showered and headed out the door. Most things were closed today considering its Sunday. I found a bakery that was opened and got a croissant filled with ham and cheese. For a beverage I walked into a small convenient store and to my amazement they had Guarana; a Brazilian soft drink that I am a huge fan of. Not a bad breakfast. I then headed into my internet shop with flash drive and camera ready but was unable to get either one to read properly. So now I have to find a café with Wi-Fi.

I proceeded to head back down Passieg de Gracia as Adriana, my tour guide back home, said I needed to see two things on this street. The first site I saw was La Pedrera de Caixa Catalunya; a building with an oddly wavy exterior finish and abstract metal sculptures for balcony fences. Next, a ways down the road was Casa Batillo, a Gaudi designed building with a colorful mosaic exterior façade, trippy exterior appointments and details and an odd looking roof. For 16.50 euro you could tour the entire building including go onto the roof with its abstract designed chimneys but I decided I had other things I wanted to spend that kind of money on, none the less an amazing looking building indeed. Once my sights had been seen I decided to head back down to the Les Ramblas area for some lunch. I was going to try and get a seat at one of the bars inside La Boqueria but it was closed. I wondered around the side streets off of Les Ramblas and came to two conclusions. The first being that if you are walking south, down Les Ramblas, if you want to venture into the not so nice/Arab/whatever neighborhood take a street to your right. I went down one and was propositioned by a prostitute “Hello……Sexy” No thanks honey: If I want a souvenir from Barcelona I’ll go back to Les Ramblas. Now, I didn’t say this, but I kind of wished I had (Jesse, Darls where are you guys when I need you). I got back on Les Ramblas and this is when conclusion number two came in. If you want food that is not overpriced, take a street on the left but be prepared to shop around before sitting down to eat.

I walked into a place called Acoma for lunch, after searching around for far too long. Their menu looked decent and so did the prices. I had a plate of sliced potatoes, chicken burrito and a chicken sandwich with cheese and avocado, and a coke to wash it all down. The food was not dramatic or anything to write home about but it did hit the spot. I left and decided to walk all the way back instead of taking the train. On my journey back I stopped for some ice cream from a place called Farggi. I had a double cup of strawberry ice cream and mango raspberry sorbet, which was quite good I must say. I made it to the hotel in one piece and laid my head down.

Those who have been with me on trips to foreign places (i.e not in New England) know that I’m very indecisive when it comes to picking an establishment to have a meal. I may see 10 different places but will want to keep going. This has been a problem for me here in Barcelona, so many restaurants to try, so little time. I wondered around for an hour around Gracia looking for a place to have dinner. Finally I ended my search at Ramon. A small eatery on Torrent de L’Olla, next to my internet store, that was asian owned but served mostly Spanish style food. I ordered a plate of sliced chorizo and a dish called Sopas de Fros. An Asian inspired ramen dish, in fact it tasted exactly like a bowl of chicken Ramen but dressed up with vegetables. Apparently, today was not my day for extraordinary culinary adventures.

Day 4
Today I decided I would lay low, for the most part. After a quick breakfast and a trip to the internet shop, I headed back to the hotel to lounge and write. Finally I got bored sitting around and decided to go try my luck at getting a seat at one of the tapas bars inside La Boqueria. I got on the train, got off at Drasseners which is at the very end of Les Rambles, close to the port and headed north towards my destination. About 3/4s of the way there I was met by a familiar face pointing at me. It was Tay! My buddy from Madrid, he was hanging out in Barcelona! He was with two people he’d from his hostel; Brenda a cute half black, half something or other girl from Vancouver and Dan, a guy from Texas. Tay asked me if I wanted to grab a drink with them. As I was feeling much better I decided it was time to slowly start drinking again. I obviously joined them. He informed me that they were on their way to meet up with a whole group of people at some bar down the street. We walked into this very crowed and narrow bar, never caught the name of it though. There must have been about 12 of us know. We all stood around severely cramped, but in good spirits introducing ourselves to each other. This is where I met Bryan, go figure he’s from Manch-Vegas. I met everyone else in the group, everyone was actually very interesting and chill to be around. Everyone in the bar was drinking these small glasses of sparkling red wine. We all got a glass and to everyone’s amazement it only cost 80 cents! We also passed around some ham and machengo cheese. We left and headed to another bar but since there were so many of us, we left and went somewhere else.

The next bar we went to was called the Black Sheep (that’s what it translated to) somewhere in an alley off Les Rambles. We found a large table in the center and the pitchers of Sangria started flowing. I have no idea how many we ended up going through, but it was a lot. By the time we were getting ready to leave I was practically shooting it, it went down so easy. Sangria here in Spain doesn’t get you crazy drunk, it just makes you really happy and social.

Madrid

Due to what I came down with in Brussels it was tough to truly enjoy Madrid. I left Brussels as the rain was coming down in sheets, what a great way to exit after a terrible night of being sick! I walked over to the train station and rode to the airport. The plane took off and I was still feeling terrible. The stewardess was nice enough to bring me a cup of soda and some kind of pill for upset stomachs. Nothing seemed to really help though, I ordered a cup o’ noodles but after 2 bites couldn’t eat anymore. I arrived in Madrid and found Sandra. Sandra has been a good friend of mine for many years. Another friend from the punk rock days who I’ve kept in good company, Sandra was in Madrid teaching abroad as part of her master’s degree and loving it. She was nice enough to meet me at the airport. We hoped on the metro and made our way to her neck of the woods close to the Atoche metro station. Her apartment was smaller than some studio’s I’ve seen in Boston (Steve, I’m lookin at you). She had a roommate who wasn’t the most pleasant guy but I figured whatever it was Sandra’s place too. Apparently not, we went out for some food which I could barely eat I felt so bad. She showed me around more and then we went over to her friend Vincent’s house to pick up a pillow mattress for me to sleep on. Vincent and his roommate Thomas were good guys; unfortunately I was practically passing out on their couch. We went back to Sandra’s place and her roommate started into her about me staying there even though he knew about it for a while.

Regardless, I spent the night at Sandra’s. Her room was about the size of a closet but we somehow managed to fit me in there. Unfortunately this would be my first and last night here due to her roommate bearing a striking resemblance to a rectal aperture rather than a human being. We searched online and found Cats Hostel not far away. My friend Billy Bentley, as it turned out was in Madrid and staying at this Hostel. Billy has good taste in most things so I decided this would be the spot. 20 Euro a night, not bad, this would do. I was still feeling terrible so I decided to get myself to the hospital to get checked out.

After going through a trying signing-in and checking of the vital I was finally called in. Thankfully the doctor spoke English very well. A string of questions, a session of listening with the stethoscope followed by pushing around my abdominal area and the conclusion was drawn that it was indeed gastroenteritis. I was told to eat nothing but starchy carbs and lean meats. No fruits or veggies. I had to drink plenty of water due to being severely dehydrated due to diarrhea. This was gonna be exciting. Then he delivered the death blow…no alcohol! So not only can I not enjoy Spain’s gift to the carnivorous world (cured ham) nor could I enjoy any of their fine alcohol. I mean Spanish beer isn’t anything special but, no wine, no sangria. If this isn’t a test of will and strength from the almighty himself I don’t know what is.

So I left the hospital, and hopped in a cab, I had the driver drop me at the Metro station so I could walk back and stop at a Kebab shop for some chips. I went to sleep and woke up feeling a bit better but the next few days were tough to get through. I found a bakery around the corner to eat at and that thankfully had pretty good food, some torillas espanol to start (basically an omelet with potatoes). I ate whatever I could that followed what the doctor said along with at least 2 1.5 litre bottles of water a day.

Since some days were somewhat uneventful or not filled with exciting outings and adventures due to my condition I’ll speak of the good things I was able to do. I was fortunate enough to make it to the Reina Sofia museum of modern art. This was a large four story building with art from all over the world. I even found a new artist whose stuff I dig. His name was Eduardo Chillida, a sculpturist from San Sebastian. What I liked about his work mostly is that they were large metal pieces, very industrial looking, as if he found these large hunks of metal that were old and covered with surface rust. But as you got close to them they were actually thin pieces welded together. Cool stuff none the less. I made my way down from the top floor and then on the second floor, there it was, Guernica, in all its glory. Pablo Picasso’s flipping of the bird to Nazi Germany and WWII. It was huge in real life! My jaw was open wide indeed. I had to get a look at it from another angle on the other side of the crowd. It was like Pablo Picasso created heavy metal and he didn’t even know it. I wanted to fight Nazi’s, while listening to Slayer now, if only Raining Blood was playing in the background it would have been perfect. Thanks for showing me this Lenny.

One afternoon Sandra brought me to Parque Del Buen Retiro, a beautiful and rather expansive park right in the middle of Madrid. We walked around and found a small shallow pond to relax by for a bit. 4 little had over kicked their soccer ball into the pond and were trying to get it back, this was indeed entertaining to watch. After about an hour or so someone was nice enough to walk in and grab the ball for them. Relaxing by the pond was perfect, it gave me some time to reflect on a few things and to try and figure out a few things in my mind which was another reason for me to take this trip. It’s tough to consider personal issues and possible decisions when you’re in a different world with beauty all around you but here and there I just have to stop and reflect on things so that when I get back to America I have a course of action to follow.

One night Sandra made reservations at this pizzeria in the Gran Via section of town. The food was excellent and afterwards we wondered around the area a bit and Sandra took me down the street where all the prostitutes conducted their nightly business, thankfully she wasn’t pushing anything on me as my good friends in Brussels had. For some reason as we walked by all these ladies of the night, the first thing that came to mind was my friend Eric Darling. I don’t know why but something about him, here on this street would be beyond hilarious. We ended up at some bar for a quick drink and who else but the Buzzcocks come on over the speakers…”What do I get woah oh oh, what do I get” Perfect.

One afternoon while hanging out in the common area of the Hostel I met Tay, a Korean guy from Las Vegas travelling around Europe like I was. We chatted quite a while about where we had been, where we were going, and tips for each other for the cities ahead. We ended up grabbing some Paella down the street for dinner which I have to say was amazing. Real Paella in its country of origin was something truly special to eat. Not to say that the American establishments where I’ve had it or the people who have made it for me haven’t been good, but this was the real thing. Tay informed he would be coming to Boston at the end of his trip for a night and catching a connecting flight in the morning. I told him to hit me up for sure when he got into town.

For my final day in Madrid Sandra brought me to a park up on a hill known as Templo De Debod. Templo De Debod was a gift to the Spanish from the Egyptians for helping them build a damn. Apparently the damn saved this temple so to show gratitude the Egyptians dismantled this temple put it on a boat, brought it to Madrid and rebuilt it on this hill/park as a gift. Nice guys huh? The park was great, very relaxing but it had a view that was breathtaking of the eastern side of the city, including the Palace du Madrid.

To conclude I enjoyed Madrid but due to my illness I don’t feel as if I truly got to enjoy it as much as I could have. I came to the conclusion early on in my stay that Madrid would be a relaxing time since I would have so much to see and do in Barcelona and beyond. Taking it easy was a good call and was very easy to do while in Madrid. It also helped that my tour guide (Sandra) is an incredibly laid back person to begin with.

The Rest of Brussels: War, Wondering, Beer, Dancing, Sketchy People, and Gastroenteritis

My goal for day 2 was to get a little cultured. I headed up from my hotel towards the market place and as I made my way into old town Brussels I was met by the melodious cacophony of church bells. I wandered through the maze of narrow side street and finally got myself one of Belgium’s most famous treats; the waffle, with strawberries and a vanilla glaze over it, all this for about 3 euro. I stood on the street and devoured it as anyone would have. These were different from any other Belgium waffle I had ever had… maybe because it was actually from Belgium. It had this great caramelized/ slightly tough exterior with a light fluffy inside that was too good for words to really describe. Like tasting the real thing after you’ve spent years eating every imitation known to mankind. Or, possibly even similar to that first porterhouse steak an ex-con eats the day he’s released from prison.
After returning to my hotel to change clothes since it was rather warm out I set out to go to the Belgian War Museum which was just on the outskirts of downtown Brussels. I inquired about its general direction and was pointed north west. As I walked I strolled through a huge open air market mainly run by the local Arab merchants. There was everything from fresh meat and produce to clothes and toys. I hailed a cab and 10 euro’s later was there. Little did I know that there was not only a huge park but there were several museums situated here.







I found my way to the war museum which happened to be free. I made my way through the, what seemed like endless cases of Belgian uniforms, swords, guns and such. They even had a tricycle that was owned and rode by king Leopold himself.
















6 meter long torpedo!!!

I found my way to the tank room. They had at least a dozen different tanks sitting in an outside area, all different sizes and such. They had some with two cannon even. There was even one tank with a flap open showing off a massive rear differential (if you’re any kind of gear head you know what this is and will appreciate it)















Next I made my way into the airplane hangar and was totally blown away by the collection they had. All sorts of different war planes, from F-14’s to bombers and on. They even had jet turbine engines, radial engines as well as one or two in line plane engines. Once again if you’re a gear head you’ll appreciate this. I’ll let the pictures do the talking.



































After the museum, I went out to the park area and lay down and relaxed for a while, contemplating whether to walk all the way back or not. The soft grass mixed with the shade was quite welcoming and a delightful change of scenery from what I had seen so far. I got up a while later and decided it would be good to walk back to the hotel. I started my journey back towards old town. As I walked I noticed that Brussels has a rent-a-bike system. I tried to get one at several locations but each one would either not take my card or was out of order, just my luck. I continued to trek back on foot. I made it back into old town in one piece and decided I should reward myself with food and drink.



And that I did. I stopped at this place called the Drug Opera. Interesting name, I had to give it a shot. I ordered myself a Croque Monsieur aux jambon (grilled cheese with ham) and a tall frosty Hoegaarden. What’s great about Belgium is when you order a beer they give you a small bowl of potato chips (known in Europe as crisps, chips are fries). I ate my sandwich and drank my beer, had another one and decided to move on. I went back to my hotel for a nap and some freshening up.



After much needed napping and showering I headed back into town to do a little drinking. I went back to O’Reiley’s, the Irish pub I was at the day before. I sat at the bar and ordered a Kilkenny lager and was quickly informed by the bartender that a large group of American’s where on the other side of the bar watching hockey, SCORE! I sat down and watching the Red Wings. I personally didn’t care about them but that was the team everyone here wanted to see. They were all Michigan State kids studying abroad. I started talking with a few of them and they were all pretty good people. We all chatted and had some beers as the night continued. I found out the bar was selling half pints of Stella Artois (25cl) for 1.8 euro. 1.8 EURO!!!! THAT’S PRACTICALLY FREE!!!! ($2.30 American, you can’t even get a PBR that cheap anymore) My night just got more interesting. As the beer kept flowing a few drunk Michigan State girls decided it would be a good idea to get up on the bar and dance. The Irish bartended Seamus had no objection to this. So they got up there and rubbed their asses against each other giving the bar a little show.



They finally got down and everyone kept on drinking and socializing. I was informed by one of the guys they were with, Scott, that there was a bar called Delirium with over 2000 kinds of beer and that I needed to check it out. I would put it on my list of things to do tomorrow. The Michigan kids left around 2am as they all had to be at a lecture very early the next morning, I wished them luck with that and before I knew it I was alone in the bar, but not for long. 2 guys who were from Brussels approached me after hearing me talk earlier and we broke into conversation. Thomas and Francois were their names and they seemed like alright guys. They were telling me about all the places they’ve been in America (Boston included) and how much they enjoyed it. Next the focus of conversation went to politics and they asked me my opinion of Barack Obama (or in this case my lack thereof) we waxed political for a bit but I made sure to get off the topic as quick as possible. I don’t like talking politics at home, I’m not gonna do it with some people who aren’t from my country in a different country.
I asked them about the neighborhood I was staying in and they offered to walk me home after the bar let out. I was cool with that, they seemed alright. Hey I would probably do the same for someone in a similar situation. We kept on talking and drinking and eventually I had to go hit the dance floor. I cast the line out but nothing was biting, I guess Belgian girls are similar to Irish girls, oh well. Seamus was nice enough to give me a free beer.
Now here’s where things took a turn for the worst. Thomas started buying Red Bull and Vodka’s, but he’d only buy 2 at a time. One whole one for me, and he split the other with his brother. They were now giving me advice on Belgian girls but unfortunately it still wasn’t working. Now things get really weird, they buy me another drink and tell me they want to see me get laid in Belgium. I’m all for that but they offer to take me to where all the prostitutes set up shop in town. I AM ALL SET. I had to tell them both this at least 10 times until finally they backed off the topic. Sorry, if I’m going to pay for sex it’s going to be through drinks, food, stimulating conversation, some dancing and a cab ride somewhere. Not, “ok here’s 50 euro, bend over.” Then they tell me they’re going to take me somewhere fun as we leave the bar. First its 50km’s away then its only 20. Sorry, but in this case I’d like to call on one of my favorite old school Hannah-Barbara cartoon characters, good old Snagglepuss to handle this one; “ Heavens to Murgatroyd, exit, stage left!” I told them that my plan was to go home that night. They didn’t want to hear that. So I took off down Anspach st. back towards my hotel. They followed yelling and begging me to come with them, I kept telling them to go home. They assured me that they weren’t going to jump me or anything like that, but I had had enough. I took my lighter out of my pocket, put it into my fist and told them to either go home or I would start swinging. Needless to say they gave up half a block later. I walked the rest of the way home, fuming, angry, every Arab I walked by once they saw that look in my eye got out of my way. I went up to my room and did whatever possible to pass out.
Lesson number two; don’t trust sketchy Belgians!

The next day was terrible, I did practically nothing I felt like such garbage. I was hungover and was sensing something else was taking over as well. I went to town for breakfast, had an omelet and about 2 glasses of tomato juice which did not help. I returned to my room and slept a while, that didn’t help and neither did dinner that night. I felt extremely lethargic and tired all day long. Then as night fell, the fever came on along with trips to the bathroom every 20 minutes or so. The fever finally broke around 5am but then I was hit with a case of the chills like never before, but the bathroom trips stayed the same, every 20 minutes to an hour if I was lucky enough to catch some quick shut eye. Yup, something I ate had made me sick. My only thought truly was a loud, shout it from a rooftop FUCK BRUSSELS!!!!

Not only did this ruin Brussels for me but it ruined the majority of Madrid for me as well which you’ll read about soon.

Don’t eat the Mussels in Brussels!

A warning I whole heartedly recommend you all heed.

I arrived in Brussels; tired, hung over and anxious. I honestly had no idea what to expect about this place. I should have done more research. After going through customs and getting some much needed water, I found out the best way to my hotel was via the speed rail train. I got my ticket, boarded and within 20 minutes I was off at the Midi Zuid station. I walked outside and faced the harsh fact that, once again, I should have done more research about this place.

As I walked out, I certainly got a few dirty looks from the local, most likely poor people, though it was broad daylight and the little research I did do I came to understand most train stations should be avoided at night. I walked down the street and by looking at my surroundings, yup you guessed, I was in the not so nice south side of old town Brussels, dodgey looking people, old, half dilapidated buildings, boarded up windows etc.. .

It took me a half hour to find my hotel since the map I had of Brussels was a bit hard to read. I went to check in only to be discouraged by the fact that my room was not ready yet. I left my bags and wandered around a bit. As I walked up Rue de Midi Zuid I noticed nothing but coffee shops and kebab restaurants with Arab writing everywhere. I was staying in the Arab section of town; Saudi’s, Iraqi’s, Iranians, etc… GGGGRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT!!!!

I went back to the hotel, sat around and finally my room was ready. As I waited, there was a brochure display in the lobby and a place called O’Reilly’s caught my attention. Perfect I had a place to watch the Heineken cup!!! I got into the elevator and went up one floor. As the door opened my nostrils were assaulted by the stench of mildew and ammonia. Go figure, not only am I in a bad part of town with people who don’t like my people, but the hotel looked like no one was taking care of it. I guess that’s what I get for 50 euro a night. But when I walked into my room, I was pleasantly surprised to find it rather clean and dare I say slightly stylish. It had creamy orange embossed wall paper, modern light fixtures and lamps and although severely cramped, a nice bathroom.

After a much needed shower and nap I set off to explore the famous Grand Market Place. Leaving the hotel I walked straight up Rue de Midi Zuid and followed the skyline. Once I entered the market place I was totally enthralled, in awe and speechless. Never in my life had I seen something so amazing. Sure, one can say New York City is jaw dropping, but this here has been like this for CENTURIES!!! Not just one or two but several! The architecture alone was stunning, but mix in the placement, the details and the grandeur and it was truly something breathtaking that no string of words or picture could truly capture.

















I wondered around the area for a while, finally stopping at a café for a beer. Afterwards it was to try and locate this Irish pub to watch the game. After what seemed like an hour, I had almost given up until finally I found the street it was on. There happened to be a large English crowd there for the game. How did I know this? They were all outside singing random little songs that sounded like they were just made up. The English do that. I grabbed a beer and sat down on a bench next to these two Irish guy and we got to chatting. I knew a bit about Rugby but they filled me in on the things I did not know. Leinster, the Irish team won the game 15-9. There were cheers and such, but I could only imagine how crazy it was not only in Dublin but all over Ireland. I wish I was still there.

I left the bar and wondered around for a while finding the secret restaurant row and ended up eating at, of all places a tapas restaurant called La Corrila. The food was superb, the drinks as well. I had a small plate of anchovies to start which tasted as if they were marinating in olive oil, lemon and a touch of vinegar for hours. Next was a plate of spicy calamari but they dish that set it off was the mussels. They were perfect, some of the best I’ve ever had. They were small and succulent marinating in a broth of white wine, onions, parsley, and most likely some saffron. After dinner I wondered around some more, taking in the sight and sounds and eventually made my way back to the hotel. A solid first day indeed I said to myself. Little did I know that things would be taking a turn for the worst before I knew it.

Dublin: day 3 and 4

I decided to crop my last two days together since nothing wholly thrilling happened except for Friday night really. I awoke Thursday morning around noon and decided to once again go do some exploring. A quick bagel from the shop up the street and I was off. I decided to go explore the north side of the Liffey this time. I set out towards the river, crossed over and continued north outside of the touristy area on the other side. I ventured through a mostly Asian neighborhood and continued through the area taking a turn or two when a street piqued my interest. After walking through what looked like a not so nice area I decided it was time to head back to familiar territory. I luckily found Upped Dorset rd and remember from my bus ride into town going down it so I followed that road until I reach the Liffey and made my way back to my hotel for some relaxing.







After a nap I went in search of some dinner and ended up at this Asian restaurant on Wexford st called Pad-Thai @ Shine. An Asian eatery and lounge on the first floor of a larger bar upstairs. I ordered a Guinness and surveyed the menu, choosing a spicy beef dish with veggies and some steamed rice. It came served on a plate which held the rice and a smaller bowl for the main part of the dish. Most chefs that want to add presentation will garnish with crushed parsley or the like, this chef sprinkled chewy cooked onion flakes around the plate which I put into the dish. The food was excellent. It had a great flavor, and great spice.

After eating I ordered a Bulmers (known in the states as Magners) and waited to hear from Cathy. I met her down in the Temple Bar area which is rather touristy but fun. It’s so touristy in fact that they pay guys to dress up as leprechauns and wonder around to take pictures with tourists. Thankfully I had avoided this area altogether up until now. We had a drink or two in a bar called The Quays (pronounced keys), meanwhile there was a band of travelling Spanish musicians outside playing for a crowd. We checked them out for a bit until I decided to head back for a shower. Cathy stayed in Temple Bar realizing she forgot her wallet at the bar. I met back up with her a while later and we headed to this bar called the Purty Kitchen. It was at this bar that I heard/saw, hands down the BEST cover band in my entire life. This band would start a song, improvise 2 or 3 different songs in the middle of it before going back to the original song. For example they started with 7 Nation Army by the White Stripes, then they broke into Relax, Don’t Do it (from the 80’s) while keeping the bass line and drums going, after that they went into You Spin Me Right Round, and then finally finishing the original song. You may be wondering how that works but trust me they made it work; In fact during their first “mash up” they threw in Brittany Spears “Hit me Baby One More Time”







Cathy’s friend Warrick met us at the bar and after a round or two we left for another place. We then headed across the river to Sin E, a smaller, more eclectic bar with two floors. The main floor had a bar and a decent sized sitting pit and played mostly old 50’s tunes. Downstairs that Spanish band we saw earlier in the day was jamming out downstairs so the three of us headed down there to soak that up. These guys were incredible musicians. Switching instruments, improvising etc…
At this point I was hurting a bit from my last two nights of unrelenting alcohol consumption and revelry as was Cathy still feeling Tuesday night. We left Sin E, walked back across the river and headed to a burger place called Ricks. Warrick said I had to try one of these before leaving Dublin. I ordered a chili burger meal with chips (fries) and it was ok. Not the best fast food burger but nowhere near the worst. When our meals were done we parted ways. I headed home to rest the dome.





Unfortunately if you’re staying at the Jackson Court Hotel you should probably stay out until Copper Face Jacks closes since the thump of the bass can be heard throughout the hotel. So going to bed was not easy but it did happen eventually.
The next morning I was awoken rather unsympathetically by the sounds of hammers knocking out porcelain tiling. The room next to mind was being renovated and they decided today to get an early start. So I decided to finally take up the hotel on their free Irish breakfast. I walked in, sat down, grabbed some OJ and within a short period of time a plate of egg, sausage, Irish bacon and beans was bestowed upon me. I ate up and went back to my room to attempt some extra sleep thanks in part to finding the ear plugs I had on my flight over, low and behold they did the trick.

When I woke up again I set out to find a coffee shop with WIFI so I could give you guys something to read and laugh about. I found one around the corner from my hotel and sat down with my camera and computer and started uploading pictures and writing. I ordered a cappuccino and an apple crumble and sat there working and relaxing for a good almost 3 hours. At this point I was hungry for some real food. I texted Cathy but never heard back from her. I walked up to the kebab shop I went to the day before for the special lamb kebab plate and soda for 6 euro’s…not bad. Finally I heard back from Cathy around 8. She had a big case come into work and had to stay late and would have to go into the office in the morning. Sad to say I wouldn’t get a chance to see her before I left but Warrick was in the area at a bar called Mess RS Maguire’s.

I showered, packed up everything; triple checked it all and headed out to meet Warrick at this bar. This place was like nothing I had seen before; 4 floors. Of course there are multiply floor clubs but this was no club. I met his old roommate Catherine and their friend Dameon. We had a beer and then Warrick brought me to a party on the Northern side of Dublin almost on the outskirts hosted by a coworker of his. It wasn’t a huge party but it was fun and low key and the ratio for once was actually in the males favor. I went outside for a smoke and met Neely, Jean, Sarah and Flannery, four local girls. Of course the second they heard my accent they started in with all their stories about working in Boston for a summer or two and how much they wanted to go back, etc… We had some laughs and such. Eventually Sarah informed us she had to head back into town and that the others were going to Wheelans, a bar on Wexford st. near my hotel that I had not yet been to.
Warrick said he was gonna stay at the party but last minute jumped in the car. We headed into the city center, got dropped off and walked a ways to the bar. Once in the girls totally ditched us, figures as much. Warrick and I bumped into some friends of his so we all hung out on the top floor looking over the dance floor. After a long set of electro stuff the DJ turned to rock and we all started getting into it. After some more drinks we found Jean who took us down to the dance floor where all started getting crazy, dancing and everything. The lights came on around 2:45am and I looked at Warrick and simply said “Copper’s.” We took off down the street for one last hurrah at Copper Face Jacks. Thankfully if you’re staying at the hotel you get in for free, so we walked up to my room, I dropped off a few things and we headed into the club.

We made our way to the bar while Gold Digger was playing and I just got in the zone. We went to the back area for a smoke and on the way back towards the front of the place I saw her. She was short, cute, dancing up a storm but the look in her eye said she wished she was around someone with rhythm, especially considering every guy that tried to dance with her she kinda pushed away or gave the cold shoulder to…(insert triumphant horn lick (dum duh duh dum). I started dancing by myself; we made eye contact and then started tearing up the floor for a bit. After a few songs she went back to her friends and I wandered some more. At this point Warrick said he had to take off. I thanked him for everything and informed him if he ever came to Boston he would be taken care of. He assured me if I ever come to Sydney (which I will one day) that I would be as well. Right after he took off, the music stopped and the DJ talked for a moment before the last song. Mr. Brightside came on as the last song. I walked back over to her grabbed her by the hand and went back to it. We chatted for a bit as the lights came on and then some more outside. Her name was Caoinhe, interesting name indeed. We kept chatting outside and I could sense some chemistry was beginning to brew but her friends were calling for her to bounce. She gave me her email we took a picture and she disappeared into the sea of cabs and faces like a ship going off into the sunset. I stood around outside for a bit soaking it all in for one last time.





I returned upstairs for my bags, checked out and hopped into a cab for the airport. Slightly intoxicated, somewhat tired, a bit sad but happy that my final night in Dublin was a good one. I made my way through the airport and finally onto the plane. As the plane touched off I reached into my shirt and kissed my chai (a Jewish thing for all you goyem out there) as if to say let me get to Brussels safely, let’s have a good time there and thanks for the good time in Dublin. And as the white and grey of the clouds devoured the lush green landscape of Ireland it dawned on me that I fell hook line and sinker, head of heels in love with Dublin. The culture, the drinking, the brogues, the football, the rugby; and although these several things don’t completely define Ireland or Dublin as a whole I vowed that I will most definitely return someday soon, even though I know that Warrick will be gone, and Cathy probably won’t be around. I’ll probably never hear from Anya, Claire or Caoinhe or see Broderick or Shay ever again but regardless the few people I did meet here are the characters that shaped this first part of my journey through Europe.